


These Towns Where Vacations Will Lead Us

by elmstreetkid



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Marriage Proposal, Max-Frank Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5159867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elmstreetkid/pseuds/elmstreetkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years post "Polarized", Max asks her very special Chloe a very special question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Towns Where Vacations Will Lead Us

**Author's Note:**

> requested as part of a tumblr giveaway.

Frank Bowers was sitting in a rickety old folding chair outside his RV, Pompidou resting his head on his paws beside him, when an equally rickety old truck rolls up and parks a few yards away. Raising the bottle of cheap beer he was sipping, he calls out to the two women who exit it. 

"Well, hey! If it isn't Maxter-Blaster!" Max Caulfield, almost twenty years old and the "Maxter" of the duo, is stepping out of the passenger side door with her girlfriend, Chloe Price, jumping out of the driver's seat. Pompidou's head perks up when he sees Max, and his tail wags so hard Frank's almost worried it'll come off. Damn does he love that weirdo hipster, but Frank can't blame him. All that shit that went down in Arcadia still gives Frank nightmares, but that girlie's a tougher cookie than him, and as much as it surprised Frank, he and Max became close friends in the aftermath of the tornado. Frank doesn't know what happened to Max during that ordeal and honestly, he didn't want to know, but it fucked Max up something good. Sometimes she needed Frank to walk around with her while she ran errands just so she could feel safe. Other time's she'd call him up late at night, sleepless, asking to come over and they'd sit in lawnchairs eating cold pizza and drinking shitty store brand soda, talking about life and the universe while Pompidou's head sat in Max's lap. There was a reason Chloe digged the girl, he could tell, so when Max called him up yesterday asking if he'd throw an impromptu party for her and Chloe, asking for a favor, Frank was down from the get-go

Max waved at him, brushing long bangs out of her eyes as she did. She'd recently exchanged her youthful bob for a sleeker style, while Chloe went all gung-ho and shaved half her head. Their relationship spanned from high school to the cusp of college, and the time that had passed showed not only in their sense of style but also in Max's many polaroids. 

"Frank! Hey Pompy!" The pooch was bouncing around Max, jumping up to perch himself against her to lick her cheek. Chloe swaggered towards the two with her hands in her pockets. 

"Pompy? Really, Max? What, you call Bowers over there 'Frankie'?"

Max is ruffling Pompidou's fur, cooing at him in a babyish voice. "I call him Pompy because he's such a precious lovely little boy! Yes he is, yes he is!" 

Chloe rolls her eyes and Frank groans while going to swig more beer. "You two gonna stand around playin' baby-mamas to my dog, or you gonna come over here and pop a squat already? I got a hot, fresh pizza this time, Max von Sydow." 

"Frank! Insert groan here. I never should have watched _Conan the Barbarian_ with you." Max sits daintily in the chair besides him, while Chloe splays herself in the one by Max. 

"Hey, that movie was badass. Least I didn't take the obvious choice and call you Mad Max. You probably get too much of that already." 

"Yeah, but it's a classic! And you kinda did with the Maxter-Blaster thing. Even though _Fury Road_ is far superior to _Beyond Thunderdome_." 

Chloe pops open the lid to the pizza box, pulling a gooey slice out onto a plate Frank's set out beside the beer and colas. "You two nerds gonna sit there talking about movies, or are we gonna party?" She takes a bite and makes a show of talking through the cheese and pepperoni in her mouth. "I was told this was a party." 

Max passes Frank a plate before fixing one for herself. "That's right, we're gonna party hard, shaka-brah. But let's thank our gracious host Franklin Bowers for hosting our soiree for us." She lifts her can of diet "Dr. Fizzy" up in a toast. 

"Ah, don't think nothin' of it, kid. We're celebrating _your_ good news, after all." Frank picks a pepperoni off his slice and passes it to a patiently waiting Pompidou. 

There's a hiss of carbonation as Chloe pops the cap to a bottle of beer. "Wait, what good news? You get into some fancy as fuck art college or something, Max?" 

"Oh, better than that, Chloe." She looks over at Frank, who pulls a cheap little ring box out of his pocket. 

"Got done engraving it this morning, girlie." 

Chloe looks suspicious, the bottle frozen in the air mid-sip. "Engraving what...?" 

Max puts her plate on the table before taking the box in her hand and getting on one knee in front of Chloe. She opens the box, containing a vintage silver ring with a petite sapphire inlaid on it. "Chloe Elizabeth Price, will you marry me?" 

Chloe drops her bottle on the pavement below her. The glass chips and the beer pools around her feet but she doesn't notice. 

"Max. Max, holy fuck. You. You wanna marry me?" She's stuttering, blushing up to the roots of her dyed hair. "You mean elope? It's not legal yet..." 

Max pulls the ring off the velvet in the box. "It is, Chloe. The ruling happened yesterday. All 50 states. Love won. We won, Chloe." Chloe's eyes get wide. 

"Holy shit. Holy SHIT."

"So that's a yes?" 

"YES! Hella FUCKING yes! Yes, Max Caulfield, I wanna be your fucking wife!" 

Once the ring is slipped on her finger, she stands and lifts the shorter girl in the air, covering her face in kisses. When she pulls back, tears are streaming down her cheeks as she stares at the ring.

"And it's in my color! Max you think of everything!" She squeals, twisting it on her finger. "Wait, it's engraved? 'To my Partner in Crime'. Wait, Frank you asshole! Were you in on this!?" 

Frank's got his hand on Pompidou's head, keeping him from trotting over and licking up the spilled beer. "Course I was! Didn't you hear what I said? I did that engraving. I owed Max after she made that rockin' collage of polaroids for my birthday." 

Max is holding Chloe's hands now. "Frank that was a gift. You don't repay birthday gifts." 

"I know, but, like. You put so much effort in it, kid. I wanted to be nice for once in my damn life." 

Chloe's intertwining her fingers with her now-fiancee's. "Wow, Frank. You're going soft." 

"Well, I'm hoping to secure a spot as the best man at your wedding. Tie a pillow to Pompidou, he'll be the ring bearer." 

Now it's Max's turn to shed a few tears. "Frank, I'd be honored to have Pompidou there. He'll be the star of the show." 

"You know I kinda think the star of the wedding should be you and, you know, your wife?" 

Chloe jumps when she hears that. "Wife! That's fucking right! I'm gonna be Max's wife! Mrs. Chloe Caulfield! Or should it be Mrs. Max Price? Oh my God no that sounds like such a terrible Bond Girl name. Should I wear a tux? Or a tuxedo t-shirt? Would that be too ironic? Max, you gonna wear a white dress? I mean, you're no virgin, so..." 

"Chloe!" Max faux-punches her shoulder in a scold, looking over to Pompidou. "Not in front of the baby!" 

"Sorry!" She lifts Max up in her arms. "I'm just so fucking happy. I love you, Max Caulfield." 

"I love you, Chloe Price."

Chloe twirls her around in delight, setting her down and kissing her deeply and while they're distracted, Frank retrieves Max's camera from her bag and snaps a picture of the moment. He knows they'll want to save this sliver of time.


End file.
